


Desk Duty

by emungere, Lady_Ganesh



Category: FAKE (Manga)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-19
Updated: 2004-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dee's a smart guy. Observant. When Berkeley Rose started moving on Ryo, Dee was the first to notice. Now he's stopped, and Dee's noticing that, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to justblue0162 for betaing and to jaina for the title.

Dee's a smart guy. Observant. When Berkeley Rose started moving on Ryo, Dee was the first to notice. Now he's stopped, and Dee's noticing that, too.

It's a relief, of course. Berkeley hasn't actually tried to kiss Ryo since he got decked for his trouble, but he always stands too close, talks too sweetly, and the worst part is that Ryo doesn't even notice and therefore doesn't object. All Dee can do is seethe quietly in the corner.

So it's good that's Berkeley's stopped. If it was just that, Dee would be grateful and let it go, but it's not just that.

He's... He's just *around* them more, following up on cases, checking in, asking helpful questions. When he was chasing after Ryo, he would give them a *break* once in a while and let Ryo recover; now he's constant, persistent, giving Dee weird looks from behind his glasses.

Under normal circumstances, Dee would just tell him to knock it off--and he's still thinking about doing it--but Berkeley can, in theory at least, fire his ass, and he's not actually doing anything *wrong*, so it's not as simple as he'd like it to be.

He goes to sit down at his desk and sees the memo, in Rose's familiar girly handwriting.

*Come to my office as soon as you get in,* it reads.

It's a bit of a surprise. Along with all the other weirdness, it's also been a while since he's gotten yelled at--at least by Berkeley, who used to dress him down at least once a week whether he'd done anything to deserve it or not.

He sticks the note in his pocket and walks to Berkeley's office.

Berkeley's smiling when he comes in. That's never a good sign. "What's going on?"

"Sit down, Detective," Berkeley says smoothly. "I'd like a word with you."

Dee sits down, and Berkeley gets up and closes the door. That's really not good. Berkeley must be really pissed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much," Berkeley says, leaning back against the desk, a little too close to Dee. "We've made some changes in the department, and I'd like you to be aware of what's going on."

"Okay..." Dee tries not to notice that Berkeley's shifted closer, that his legs are now stretched out in front of him and nudging Dee's thigh.

"Personnel changes, mostly. A few transfers, a few reassignments--"

He glares and sits up straighter. "If you think you can split me and Ryo up just like that--"

But Berkeley's shaking his head, holding up a hand. "Not that I wasn't tempted, but I dread to think of either of you partnered with anyone else at this point. It would cause more problems than it would solve. No, the two of you are staying together for the foreseeable future."

Dee leans back in his chair, frowning. "What then?"

"Well, you'll notice J.J. is out today--"

Well, that explained why the morning had been so pleasant. "What the fuck are you doing to him?"

"He's been transferred."

"Transferred?"

Berkeley nods brightly. He's enjoying this way too much; something *has* to be up.

"Since when have you done anything nice for me?" And then Dee notices the look in his eyes.

He notices it a little too late. As he stands up, Berkeley is off the desk and between him and the door.

"I'm...gonna go now," Dee says, without moving. Berkeley takes a step closer, smiling at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"The day I buy the innocent act from you is the day I buy the Brooklyn Bridge," Berkeley says. "You know exactly what I'm doing."

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'sexual harassment,' Berkeley?"

Berkeley cocks an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd be relieved I was no longer focused on Ryo."

Dee takes a step back and realizes he's been backing up all along. Now the desk is behind him, and he has nowhere left to go.

"Well yeah, but..." But Berkeley is leaning over him, hand on the desk by his hip. "Come on. You're not serious about this. Right?" You're just screwing with me, he barely stops himself from adding.

"You have no idea how serious I am, Detective," Berkeley says, moving so their bodies are just touching.

"But..." Berkeley certainly *feels* serious. To Dee's shock, he realizes his body's getting pretty serious about things too. "Why?"

"Why waste my time chasing rainbows when a prize like you is around?"

Now *that* was just ridiculous. "You *are* just screwing with me," he says, instantly regretting it.

He has to resist the urge to close his eyes and groan. He's asking for it, handing Berkeley a setup that perfect.

Berkeley grinds his hips forward, making Dee want to groan for a different reason, and Berkeley's grin shows more teeth than Dee is really comfortable with. He takes Dee's chin in his hand and smirks and opens his mouth to reply.

It's about then that Dee remembers he doesn't *like* Berkeley, that he can stop this, that he *should* stop this even if parts of him have no problem with letting it happen. Those, he reminds himself, are not the parts he should be thinking with.

"Haven't you been around that princess long enough to notice?" Berkeley purrs into his mouth. "He's never going to give it up. Not for you, or me, or probably anyone else at this precinct."

*Not J.J., anyway*, Dee thinks. Berkeley smells like overpriced aftershave and it's not bothering him as much as it should.

"So...I've decided to focus on a more rewarding project."

*This is about the point where Ryo decked him*, Dee thinks as Berkeley kisses him.

But Berkeley's tongue flicks across his lips and inside his mouth, and Dee's hands are locked on the fabric of his suit jacket, and he's letting Berkeley’s hand on his thigh push him back just a little more so he's sitting on the desk. Legs spread, Berkeley standing between them. He tries to say something, but he's barely got his mouth open before Berkeley’s kissing him again.

"Do you really think I plan on giving you the chance to say no, Detective?" Berkeley murmurs, their lips touching with every word.

Dee figures he's pretty much missed the bus on that whole punching thing, which is a pity, because Berkeley sounds so smug that the idea of giving him a bloody nose is an appealing one.

Blue balls are an option, too. He could get up and leave Berkeley hot and wanting and hard, so *fucking* hard against him now, and maybe he should just kiss him one more time, because after all it'll be better if he teases him just a little longer...

Oh, Christ, he's not even kidding *himself*.

Berkeley's glasses keep hitting his face in the wrong places and it's bugging the shit out of him, but if he takes them off, that means he *commits* to this, that the terrible, stupid, and suddenly terrifically fascinating idea of screwing Berkeley in his office is somehow his too.

Berkeley moves on to his neck, and Dee's glad he's already sitting down. Teeth in exactly the right place, exactly hard enough; hands on his ass, keeping him pressed tight against Berkeley's body. He tries not to tilt his head back, because that's giving in, and that's bad. Has to be bad. Right? He wonders briefly if this is how Ryo feels.

He blinks over Berkeley's shoulder, and after a few seconds, his eyes focus on what's he's seeing. The blinds on the office door are open.

He doesn't actually hit Berkeley, but Berkeley ends up on the floor just the same. Dee is across the room in about a second and a half and somehow letting down the blinds instead of opening the door and, oh, maybe getting the fuck out.

He stands still with his hand on the doorknob, hard as hell, swearing to himself. He doesn't have Berkeley standing over him, making him want it, but he wants it just the same.

He curses one last time and locks the door.

"He's a nice guy, Ryo," he says, more to himself than Berkeley.

"Good-looking," Berkeley adds. Dee turns to him and notices he's taken off his glasses.

"Generous. Good with kids." He wonders if he should take off his gun. Dee knows a lot about sex, but the exact protocols for screwing your supervisor in the middle of the work day are somewhat fuzzy in his mind.

"The kind of guy you marry," Berkeley says. "Do you really want to get married?"

He looks Berkeley up and down, from the toes of his shined shoes to the bulge in his pants to the suit jacket hanging off one shoulder. Dress shirt creased where Dee grabbed it, lips wet, eyes naked but no more vulnerable.

"Not right now," Dee says. He didn't mean it to sound like a come-on, but he's smiling and his voice is low, and hell, he's already locked the door.

Berkeley looks at him steadily. "Good. Come over here."

And as much as it grates to take an order--*any* order--from Berkeley, he walks over, straddles him, kneels down into his body, reaches over and strokes his cock through the smooth fabric of his overpriced pants.

Berkeley growls approval and grabs his shoulders, pulling him down, and Dee puts his free hand on the floor to steady himself as they kiss again. Berkeley is leisurely, slow, collected, and Dee wants to break that control, get him wild and stupid and crazy under his hands.

Berkeley rolls them both over, pushing Dee down, nipping again at the side of his neck, and Dee groans, thrusts helplessly up into him, letting Berkeley work his jacket off over his shoulders.

His tie is undone, his first button open, and Berkeley is sucking on his collar bone. He yanks Berkeley's shirt out of his pants and hooks a hand into his waistband. The backs of his fingers slide over Berkeley's stomach as he reaches down, not bothering to unfasten pants or belt.

Berkeley's breath is sharp and hot against his skin. Hands that are a little more hurried now pop open the next button on his shirt. Dee watches it bounce away across the floor and grins. Small price to pay. He cups Berkeley's cock through his boxers and gets teeth on his nipple in return.

His hand in Berkeley's hair holds him there as his other hand rubs slowly, teasing cotton over hot flesh. Berkeley's hips push down, and Dee lightens his touch.

He thinks Berkeley wants it fast so he takes it slow, just teasing him, and Berkeley groans with pleasure or frustration and Dee decides either is fine with him. Berkeley's tongue flicks against his nipple again, and that's good, that's better, so he just strokes the head of Berkeley's cock with his thumb as a reward. He knots his hand deeper into Berkeley's hair. It's coarse and thick, not like Ryo's at all.

And that, to his surprise, is fine with him.

It's been too fucking long and he's needed this too much but he's still surprised by how turned on he is, by how fucking *good* Berkeley feels, by how fucking *nice* it is to just be wanted.

Berkeley's hand strays down to the front of Dee's pants, sliding two fingers along his fly. Dee's breath catches, and his hips jerk up. He can feel Berkeley smirk against his skin.

"Been a while, Detective? Keeping yourself pure for him?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Berkeley raises his head, pulling against Dee's grip on his hair. "Shut me up," he says. His eyes are glittering, and his face is very slightly flushed. "If you think you can."

Dee goes to kiss him again, but Berkeley's already sliding down his body, easy and smooth, eyes always on Dee's face.

"Berkeley," he grunts. *I don't even like you*, he thinks again, and then he's not thinking at all because Berkeley's chin is rubbing against his fly.

"I think it's been a while, Detective," Berkeley says into his pants. "I think you want this. I think you need this. I think I can make you beg for it, if I want to."

*Asshole*, Dee thinks, but Berkeley's right; it has been a while, and *damn* he wants it. Berkeley bites at the snap of his pants, dips his tongue into the zipper, and Dee thrusts up again with his hips, gets the side of his thumb into Berkeley's mouth to give him something to suck.

As a side bonus, it shuts him up, too.

His hand curls around Berkeley's jaw, and his teeth sink into his lip as Berkeley's tongue draws smooth circles over the pad of his thumb. He can almost feel that wet heat on his dick, and there's a moment when he thinks it might be worth begging to get that.

He tries to focus on what it would be like remembering that the next time Berkeley is dressing him down and wants to hit something when the thought only gets him harder. His body has no sense of propriety.

Berkeley's fingers are inching his zipper down, Berkeley's nose nuzzling against the hard length of his cock through the cotton of his boxers.

He tightens his hold on Berkeley's jaw. "Quit fucking teasing me, and just do it," he growls.

"Oh, I think you can do better than that, Detective."

"You son of a *bitch*," Dee growls, thrusting up against Berkeley's mouth again. "Just--"

Berkeley smiles; smug, like a cat or a serial killer. "Just what?"

"Do it--"

"Do what?" Berkeley nuzzles his cock again.

"Suck--"

"What's the magic word, Detective?"

His hands are so tight in Berkeley's hair he's surprised the man isn't in pain. Not that he'd care. "Just suck me...please... *Please*..."

"Mmm," Berkeley says, and pulls his cock free of his boxers. "I suppose I should. Care to promise me anything in return?"

"How about I won't report your sorry ass to Internal Affairs?"

Berkeley just laughs. "I don't think you'll do that."

"No?" Dee fights to keep his voice steady as Berkeley wets his lips, tip of his tongue less than an inch from his cock. "Why's that?"

"First, I'd never do this," and Berkeley licks up the side of his cock, "again. And second, if you pushed it far enough, there'd be a trial."

"That's the point," Dee pants, trying to pretend he didn't crack his head against the floor at that first touch. "Get you out of circulation. Make sure you can't...to anyone else... Oh, god."

Berkeley's tongue swipes across the head of his cock. His voice is a little mocking, entirely sure of himself, entirely sure he'll get what he's after. "Do you really want to hear me testify in open court what you promised me if I'd just oh-god-please suck you off?"

"Haven't promised you anything yet."

"Not yet. I'm waiting."

"You can wait a long fucking time, then," Dee says, relieved to find a shred of dignity to hold on to. "I'm not making any promises."

"Are you sure, Detective?" Berkeley breathes in hard and Dee has to restrain himself from whimpering. "I seem to have the advantage of you at the moment."

"Your advantage can kiss my--" And then Berkeley's tongue is darting against his cock again, and Dee's head cracks against the floor again, harder this time, and Dee is just *want* and just *need* and damn Ryo for being such a cock-tease and damn Berkeley for feeling so fucking *good* and damn himself for being so fucking *weak*-- "Shit. What-- What the hell do you want, Berkeley?"

"What are you promising me?"

"Just suck me off, Berkeley. You'll get what you want. You always do."

"I want to hear you *say* it, Detective." Berkeley reaches up and teases Dee's cock with his thumb, the touch too light, teasing, making Dee ache.

Dee bites his lip hard, but the hot heavy taste in his mouth isn't blood; it's just *want*, and he can feel his gun digging into his side, and there's a second where he actually considers pulling it, and he can't believe anyone's gotten him that desperate, let alone Berkeley. Goddamn son of a *bitch*. He gets a hand in Berkeley's hair and yanks his head up.

"You want a promise? How about this--blow me, and I'll bend you over your desk and fuck you till you can't walk straight. Sound good to you?"

But Berkeley's breathing over his cock, and smiling, and Dee knows he just used up the last bit of resistance he's got in him.

"Almost, Detective, but not quite." Dee's grip has loosened, and wiry hair slides through his fingers as Berkeley rubs his cheek along the length of him. "Try that last part the other way around, and we might have a deal."

"Fine," Dee grits out, his teeth clenched. "Just *do* it."

"You haven't promised, Detective," Berkeley says, rubbing again as Dee tries not to scream with frustration.

"Fine. I promise, you bastard. Just *do* it already--" and by that time he's halfway down Berkeley's throat, Berkeley sucking hard and shit, the man must not have any gag reflex at *all* and did he just agree to get fucked?

And maybe it doesn't matter, because Berkeley's teasing his dick again, tongue flicking against the slit, and it's so *fucking* good that maybe whatever the fuck Berkeley wants is worth it, maybe getting fucked against the desk isn't such a bad idea after all. Berkeley is *good*, Berkeley is warm and wet and sweet and--and maybe best of all--he can't say a fucking word with Dee's dick in his mouth.

Dee does his best to last, holds on for everything he's worth, but in addition to being an annoying, arrogant son of a bitch, Berkeley's also a damn fine cocksucker. Soft wet tongue cushions and strokes him as he slides in and out of Berkeley's mouth, drags across the head, pointed tip in the slit. Then, with no warning, he's back down Berkeley's throat so deep he wonders how the bastard can even breathe.

He can feel it building, knows he's going to come, takes Berkeley's head in his hands and fucks his mouth. Brutal, hot, wet, and perfect, and he could never do this with Ryo, and then he's coming, trying so hard to keep quiet and failing, back arched off the ground.

Berkeley swallows, licks him clean in long strokes that make Dee whimper. Dee's eyes are closed, hands still loosely tangled in Berkeley's hair. He feels so incapable of movement that he thinks he might actually have passed out, except then he probably wouldn't still be thinking about it if he had.

And then he is moving--everything's moving--Berkeley hauling him up, throwing shit off his desk without thinking twice, and Dee is thinking *shit, now?* but it could be worse because Berkeley's still not talking and the last thing Dee wants to hear right now is that voice--

Bent over the desk like Berkeley wants, and he's getting hard again, hard like he used to get when he was a fucking *teenager* and he wants it, he wants it *bad*, he hasn't been fucked in *years* and the only think he can think is that if Berkeley makes him beg for it, he will, he'll beg like he's never asked for anything in his life and please, please let Berkeley just *fuck* him and not play his stupid fucking *games* for once--

Berkeley unbuckles his belt, hauls his pants down under his ass, hesitates for a second, then pulls them off all the way and spreads Dee's legs further apart.

For half a second, the rational part of his mind resists.

Then Dee tells it to shut the fuck up.

Berkeley's leaning over him, thighs against the back of his legs, warm skin against his ass and lower back where his shirt is riding up. He needs more of that. He pushes off the desk to try and get enough space to take his pants off, but Berkeley's hand comes down hard on the back of his neck.

"Relax," Dee says, kicking out of his shoes and working his pants down as far as he can. "I'm not trying to get away."

Berkeley shoves Dee's pants down and off, shoves his shirt up under his armpits, leaving his chest bare against cool wood. He fits their bodies together, lying over Dee's back, hand almost gentle on his neck now, thumb stroking just under his ear. Berkeley's cock rubs between his cheeks, and he pushes back against it.

"Good," Berkeley says in his ear, voice low and strained. "You get one chance, Laytner. If you really don't want this, say no now. I won't care what you say later."

Part of Dee's reassured by the warning; the rest of him is pissed that Berkeley thinks he'll back out. "Lube," he demands. "Hurry the fuck up."

"If you insist," Berkeley says, reaches over the desk and opens a drawer, and of course the asshole has lube in his desk drawer, doesn't everyone? And then Dee's not pissed any more because the lube is cool and slick and Berkeley's back against his ass again, and Dee's pushing back, wanting, wanting it bad, and Berkeley's slicking himself and Dee grabs the edge of the desk and closes his eyes.

Berkeley's warm, his skin hot against Dee's back, and Berkeley's face is nuzzling against his neck, and it's strange, because this weird almost-tenderness isn't what Dee expected at all.

And then Berkeley slams into his body so hard the world goes white.

It takes him a second to realize those strange choked noises are coming from him and a second longer to realize that Berkeley's now perfectly still inside him. All the way inside. He can feel sharp hips pressed against his ass.

It hurts, but it's the burn of muscle stretched too quickly and too suddenly, and it's fading already. He feels full, and he's harder than he should be this soon, and god, why doesn't the bastard fuck him already?

He doesn't know if Berkeley's waiting for him to adjust or just trying to torture him. He doesn't care.

It's easy to rock his body backwards, not so easy to squeeze down around the cock inside him, but he does it anyway. Little jolts of pain and pleasure as Berkeley sucks in air and bites his shoulder--and moves a fraction of an inch inside him.

"You *bastard*," Dee spits between his teeth, and Berkeley laughs and reaches around him to grab his hip.

"You like this," he whispers against Dee's burning shoulder. "Don't you?"

"Just *fuck* me already."

"I don't want this to end too soon," Berkeley says, and Dee feels every word mouthed against his skin. "Don't you like it?"

"Yes," he says, because he'd rather say it now when he has the choice than have Berkeley drag it out of him. It comes out angry, and then he can't shut up. "I like your mouth on me and your dick in me and your skin and your perfect fucking body, and will you for god's sake just *move*, you son of a bitch? Or do you actually *want* me to kill you?"

Berkeley pulls out a few inches and shoves back into him, right against his prostate, and he knows it too, judging by the smugness in his voice.

"I won't do you much good dead, Laytner."

If Dee could think, he'd probably voice some smart-ass comment about corpses being plenty stiff, but his brain just can't seem to get there. There's not enough air in the room any more; he's gasping, desperate for *more*, and Berkeley chuckles and pulls out again.

Dee *hates* this, the wanting and the begging and the need making him crazy and stupid, and he wants it so bad, wants more, wants to do all this again tomorrow and maybe the day after too, except maybe next time it's Berkeley begging...

And then Berkeley's *moving* again, and thought shuts down and it's just Berkeley moving and the hard edges of the desk against his hands and Berkeley's dick against his prostate and he wants to touch himself, needs to touch himself, but he's braced against the desk and he needs both hands-- "Touch me," he says, and wonders if Berkeley will do it.

He does. For a blissful few minutes, Berkeley fucks him steadily, jerks him off in the same rhythm, licks at his neck and stops teasing, and Dee's getting close fast.

Closer and thrusting into Berkeley's slick hand, eyes closed and just feeling, just taking it, and then he's on the edge and Berkeley's fingers close around the base of his cock and *squeeze*. Shit, fuck, hell, damn, but nothing makes it past his lips because he can't get enough air to actually talk and if he could he'd just be begging anyway.

Berkeley's breathing hard in his ear, and Dee doesn't want to hear whatever he's going to say.

Tongue slick around his ear, and Dee's trying to breathe again.

"Laytner?"

"Uh..." This is fucking *killing* him, and the asshole wants to talk.

"Internal Affairs doesn't need to know about this, right?"

Shit. *Shit*. "Rose, can't you just shut up and *fuck* somebody for a change? What the fuck happened, you pulled this shit on Ryo and he fell asleep?"

"I can keep doing this, you know. We can keep doing this."

"Yeah, I know. Just let me come already--"

Berkeley says, "Beg me."

Dee can't quite believe he said that. Just like that, just flat out, just...like he knew Dee would do it if he asked. And he will.

Berkeley pulls back and squeezes his cock just a little, and Dee's already got his mouth open when he shoves back in and hits him just right, and it's too late to do anything but wish for a gag and try not to hear what he's saying.

"Please," he says, if it's really his voice sounding like that, so strained, on the edge of breaking. "Please, I want it, want to come, let me--oh--" He breaks off as the hand around his cock slides down his length once and back up again. "Oh god Berkeley, *please*--"

Berkeley groans something in his ear and then Berkeley's moving again and the pressure's off his dick and over on his hip and he's going to fucking *black out* he's coming so hard, and he's making some kind of noise and Berkeley's hand is over his mouth shutting up what wants to be a scream, but it's all right, it's good because he's finally, *finally* coming--

"You're so fucking *good*," Berkeley whispers into his ear, and then his breath hitches a little, and it's like Berkeley fucking *explodes* inside him, his fingers digging into Dee's hip so tight he *knows* it's going to bruise, and suddenly Dee's body is complaining about the position and the desk and the burn in his ass and his brain is screaming, *You just let Berkeley Rose fuck you?!?*

He ignores all of it and slumps into Berkeley's arms.

Berkeley pulls out gently. His hand leaves Dee's hip, and Dee searches for his voice. It comes out hoarse and dry.

"If you let go right now, I'm gonna fall on my ass." He stops to catch his breath. "And then I'll have to shoot you."

Berkeley chuckles, but takes his hips again and pulls him back and down until they're sitting on the floor, leaning against the desk. And, in Dee's case, leaning against Berkeley. He'd like to change that, but his heart's still racing and his muscles just aren't working, and moving isn't even an option.

"Not bad, Laytner," Berkeley says, at last.

Dee smirks. "'So fucking *good*,' were your exact words, I think."

Berkeley makes a noncommittal noise. "We should get cleaned up. You still have work to do."

Dee reaches over to the box of tissues on Berkeley's desk and hopes sincerely they weren't put there just for this purpose. "Don't you have to finish up the paperwork from transferring J.J.?"

Berkeley grabs some tissues of his own and lets Dee go, gently, helping him lean against the desk. "Did all that yesterday."

"Where'd you get him transferred to?" Shit, there's that missing button... Hell, no one'll notice. Maybe he'll button his jacket up anyway. Good thing it's a cold day.

"Texas. Helping out the Border Patrol with some cases."

Dee can't stop himself from grinning. "You keep up shit like that and I'll think you're in love with me."

Berkeley lifts an eyebrow. "Cute, Detective."

"By the way, call me detective while we're going at it again, and I'll start calling you commissioner."

"What makes you think I wouldn't like that?"

Dee rolls his eyes. "Then I'll *find* something you won't like."

There's a second of silence, and Dee has time to review his words. He's pretty sure he just said they'd be doing this again. And Berkeley didn't object. Or even mock him, which probably means he's all for the idea. And that's...okay, actually. Maybe even better than okay.

He's not going to ask when, even though he wants to know. It's not like it'll be hard to talk Berkeley into it. Unlike Ryo, he actually has a sex drive. Wow, what a sex drive.

"Happy thoughts, Detective?" Berkeley asks, and Dee can hear the smirk in his voice.

Dee smirks back. "Next time, you're up against the desk."

"Don't count on it," Berkeley says, fixing his glasses back on his face.

Dee buckles his belt. "Don't be surprised when it happens." He wonders if his legs are strong enough now to get him to the bathroom.

"Now get out of here," Berkeley says, taking his elbow and walking him toward the door, acting like he's throwing him out but taking a lot of Dee's weight in the process.

Before he can unlock the door, Dee leans over and kisses him, hard, feral, more possessive about it than he'd intended to be.

He expects to get pushed away. Instead, he ends up with Berkeley all but clinging to him to keep him close a few more seconds. The kisses are good as everything else, tongues moving against each other, lips wet and sliding, Berkeley's hand digging into his back.

When they part, Dee realizes he's taken Berkeley's glasses off and has to hand them back. Berkeley takes them with a nod, folds them, and puts them in his pocket. He leans in again, hand on the side of Dee's face and kisses him once more, softly.

Dee blinks at him, almost willing to believe now that Berkeley really did transfer J.J. for him, rather than for some dark reason of his own. Berkeley unlocks the door and holds it open for him.

"Well," Dee says formally, walking through. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I suggest you do, Detective." Berkeley’s face is closed now, but his tone is still oddly tender.

He walks away--not as fast as he probably should, but he's walking normally enough. He can hear Ryo's voice behind him. "Hey, Berkeley, everything okay?"

"Just fine," Berkeley says, calm as ever. "I just had to go over a few points of order with your partner."

"Yeah?" Ryo sounds suspicious.

"Don't you two have a case to work on?"

"Yeah. You're sure everything's all right?"

"Everything's going surprisingly well," Berkeley says.

Dee smiles to himself as he hears the door close.


End file.
